The Other Boyfriend
by VampBait
Summary: Blaine Anderson had it all. A rich, affectionate live-in lover who was amazing in bed, and whom he was completely in love with. So why was he so obsessed with his lover's new boy on the side? Starts out Blaine/Sebastian, eventual Klaine.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Glee is the property of Ryan Murphy, et al. This work is purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made**.

**Rated M for graphic sexual acts and language of the foulest sort. **

**I am currently without a beta, so any grammatical or contextual mistakes are my sole responsibility.**

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><p><em>Polyamory is a beautiful and valid lifestyle choice, in which multiple partners, through grace, love, and open communication, commit to making their love work for and with them. When at its best, pain is shared and joy is multiplied. This is not a story about polyamory. This is a story about making the wrong choices, the wrong sacrifices, and all for the wrong reasons. It is a story of how a strong, independent, confident man is broken: piece by piece, bit by bit. Until one day, he looks in the mirror, and sees a reflection he doesn't know.. <em>

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><p>The room was warm- practically stifling. Sweat rolled down Blaine's spine, as he leaned against the headboard, his arms wrapped snug around his lover. His chest to the other man's back, being a sort of interactive pillow, cradling him as he arched and gasped with abandon. Blaine's gaze trailed down the line of Sebastian's body, past his twitching abdomen, to the perfectly pink lips that were wrapped around the root of his cock. Perfect lips, on a perfect face, with perfect glasz eyes that suddenly rolled up to meet his own. A sharp bolt of heat ran through him, as he watched those slender, pale fingers dig into his lover's thighs, as a high-pitched, breathless moan sounded. Sebastian bucked up suddenly, breaking the fog of arousal that swirled around Blaine, and he tore his gaze away from Kurt's head in the other man's lap. One tanned hand slipped up to palm a flat nipple, tongue darting out to drag across his partner's taut neck, salt-slick and wet. The sounds, the smells, the tastes in this apartment were enough to drive a man insane - a decadent fantasy come to life. Three beautiful men, entwined. Sweating, tasting, touching, <em>fucking <em>on a lazy summer afternoon.

Curses were dripping from Sebastian's lips, as he finally grabbed a handful of Kurt's hair, practically ripping his mouth away. He surged forward from Blaine's careful embrace, roughly pinning the slender young man on his back, one hand sliding ungentle fingers into Kurt's ass, testing the stretch from their last go around. His other hand reached back expectantly, and the curly-haired brunet placed a half-empty bottle of lube in his waiting grasp. Sebastian flipped the lid, placing sloppy, heated kisses on Kurt's thighs, working him further open. Blaine tore open yet another condom package, adding the wrapper to the pile accumulating on the floor near the wastebasket, and expertly rolled it on to his partner's cock. The taller man made a sound in his throat - it could have been thanks, it could have merely been a reaction to the friction. Regardless, it was only a moment before he surged forward yet again, lining up with the waiting orifice, and thrust himself home.

Blaine settled himself back against the headboard, grasping his dick with a sweaty palm. His eyes burned into Kurt's profile, memorizing the flushed curves of his cheek, the way his once-coiffed hair lay plastered against his forehead with sweat, the way his lips looked, swollen from kisses and head. The way his gasps and moans provided a pornographic counterpoint to the bass-heavy music playing from the computer in the corner, from a playlist aptly entitled "Music to Make Fuck To". The voyeur tightened his grip, speeding up his strokes at the erotic sight of the sassy fashionista falling utterly apart. His guilt was forcefully shoved away - it had no place in this moment. Later, he would let himself wallow. Later, he would hate himself a little bit for how much he wanted the wrong man. Later... later he would do a lot of things. But right now, right now Kurt was arching and grinding, and pumping his dick not twelve inches away from him, and there was nothing Blaine wanted more than to come at the same time as his lover's other boyfriend.

A fraction of a second passed - or maybe it was an eternity stretched thin over stained cotton sheets. Whichever it was, he came back to himself in a heady rush, endorphins singing through his veins, semen clinging to his fist.

"Oh, God, 'Bastian..." Kurt's sated groan reverberated in his ears, causing his neck to flush in shame for wishing it was his name being spoken instead. _Be cool, Blaine. Be cool. _Repeating his overused internal mantra, Blaine stood a little shakily, and made his way to the en suite bathroom to retrieve a pair of damp washcloths, a clean towel, taking the time to wash up a little himself. Sure enough, by the time he returned, Sebastian and Kurt were exchanging lazy kisses side by side, arms wrapped loosely around each other, whispering sweet nothings.

"How late are you staying, baby?" he heard Sebastian murmur, rubbing his nose against the other's shoulder.

"Mm, not too late. I have to work pretty early tomorrow." Kurt stretched his arms languidly above his head.

"But I don't want you to go," came the pouting response, the taller man throwing a leg over the countertenor's hips, pinning him in place, hands skimming up those toned biceps to circle his wrists.

Blaine's entrance barely caused a stir. Towels and whatnot went on the nightstand, and he met his partner's gaze briefly. Sebastian's eyes flicked towards the door with an arched brow, and well, he could take a hint. Blaine snagged a pair of shorts from his dresser on his way out of the bedroom.

"But, baby, I love you. I never want you to leave..."

Shutting the door behind him, he padded barefoot to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The blast of chilly air was particularly welcome against his overheated flesh, and he pulled his shorts on reluctantly, eyes flicking over their supply of groceries. He had no doubt that 'Bastian would convince his boyfriend to stay, at least for dinner, so he might as well get it started, right?

He moved on autopilot, taking a swig from his newly opened Gatorade, pulling out some chicken breast to defrost, washing lettuce and slicing vegetables for a summery salad. Walnuts and raspberry vinaigrette for himself and Sebastian, olives and a drizzle of oil and balsamic for Kurt. Garlic and white wine to season the pan-seared chicken breast... he'd done this a hundred times, with a hundred meals. It was only recently that it had started to bother him. That he was picking Kurt's favorites, not Sebastian's. That when he went shopping, he wondered what Kurt might want for dessert, rather than getting his lover's favorite cheesecake. It was all around a fucked up situation. But he had it under control. It wasn't the first time Sebastian had brought someone in to their relationship, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But it was the first time that Blaine had feelings for one.

He clenched his fists. Cracked his neck. Turned the chicken in its pan. It was under control.

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><p><strong>A year ago...<strong>

"If I said my heart was beating loud,

If we could escape this crowd somehow,

If I said I want your body now...

Would you hold it against me?"

Stripped down to an acoustic version, the cheesy, popular Britney Spears club anthem was almost unrecognizable, if not for the chorus. Crooned on stage at the bar's open mic night by a twenty-something young man with slicked back hair and a grey cardigan, well. It was no less cheesy, but it gained a kind of shameless charm. In fact, it was received with fairly enthusiastic applause. The preppy youth on stage beamed at his audience and swept an elaborate bow, slinging his guitar over his shoulder by its strap, and making way for the next performer.

Blaine Anderson was pretty pleased with himself. His song went over well, he had the next day off, and he had some cash in his wallet. For him, that was a good day. It got even better when a tall, good looking man in a fitted blazer came up at his elbow and offered a flirty smile.

"You must be thirsty. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Uh, sure. Rum and coke?" he blushed.

His new friend ushered him to the bar, ordering expertly, then turned back to him. "Blaine, right? I think we met briefly at Nick and Jeff's New Year's party."

"Right! Steve? Dammit. I know it starts with an 's'..." Blaine's flush deepened.

"Sebastian Smythe. I admit, I'm a little disappointed I wasn't more memorable. Because I think I'd recognize you anywhere," he affected a pout.

The first round of drinks turned into a second, then a third. By last call, they were laughing and chatting like old friends.

"Do you want to grab some food? I don't have anywhere I need to be, and waffles sound amazing right about now. There's a great 24-hour diner just about a block from here," Blaine offered with a grin.

"Sounds perfect."

Over Mama Cass' Famous Waffles, the night continued. Blaine talked about his family-

"I never would have guessed you were from Podunk Ohio," laughed Sebastian. "You seem to fit in so well with the whole New York scene,"

"Liar," he shot back with a wide smile. "I know I'm hopeless. But I love it here."

About his first boyfriend-

"You what?" gasped the taller man, his blazer long since tossed to the side of the booth, his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow as he leaned forward, scandalized.

"I serenaded him at work. Robin Thicke's 'When I Get You Alone'," the younger of the two insisted, laughing so hard at the once-bitter memory that he had trouble getting the words out.

"Doesn't it have a line about sex toys?"

"Yep. Hence the whole he got fired and dumped me thing."

"Oh God."

About his current situation-

"So since my parents decided I was wasting my potential and cut me off, I've pretty much been crashing at my friend David's place - you remember David, right? Well, since he deployed to Iraq last month, I've been, you know, watering the plants, feeding the cat. God knows I could never afford an apartment like that on a barista's salary. He's cool about it though. I mean, imagine the kennel fees for that bastard feline. He's giant, and lazy, and mother of God is he mean."

And once the glimmer of false dawn began to chase away the New York night, about Sebastian. Almost inevitably, Blaine reached across the table to clasp a hand still warm from his seventh cup of coffee.

"So, um... Your place or mine?"

The can ride to Sebastian's uptown loft wasn't awkward at all. Neither was it full of passionate touches and kisses, out of respect for the driver. But once the apartment door swung shut, all bets were off. Blaine's favorite cardigan was discarded by the door, his shirt and Sebastian's fell forgotten in the darkened hallway, and by the time they made it to the bedroom proper, they were kicking off shoes and fumbling with belts. And over the course of the following several hours, Sebastian and his well-above-average dick made the younger man come harder than he'd ever come in his life - and more than once.

"Ugh," Blaine groaned, flinging an arm over his eyes at the sunlight streaming through the window. He tried to summon the energy to move. "I guess I should... I mean, you know, where's the closest subway? I'm terrible with cross streets..."

"No," Sebastian pouted, reddened lips leaving a moist kiss on his sweaty shoulder. "Stay for a nap, at least. Please?"

"Mmkay."

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><p><strong>AN: Like I said, this fic is all about "doing it wrong" and figuring out how to fix it when it's broken. If you'd like to read the positive side of poly relationships, I recommend Puckleberry Finn, by MaryRoyale and the Donut 'verse by Nubianamy. Actually, read everything by Nubianamy, because she's amazing, and also my favorite.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: General disclaimer in first chapter. No chapter specific warnings or disclaimers needed at this time.**

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><p>The next several weeks were a whirlwind. Blaine spent just about every other night at Sebastian's place. It would have been more, but there was a cat to feed at David's, and after a long talk, the two of them had decided that it would keep things from getting awkward. After all, they weren't dating. They never went anywhere, other than the bar he played at every Tuesday for Open Mic, without fail. They just fixed dinner at 'Bastian's place, curled up for movies, talked for hours, oh, and had it been mentioned, they fucked. And fucked. Sebastian penetrated him on or against every surface of the impeccably decorated apartment. Twice. Then they would pass out, sweaty, naked and sticking together with less mentionable body fluids, before one of them got up for work. Then they'd share a shower – complete with blow jobs – and part for the day.<p>

Blaine had never been so well-laid in his life. His energy-slash-enthusiasm dial was generally set at about an eight. After Sebastian came in his life (and his mouth, his ass, his hands, his hair...) it was like he was set at a permanent twenty-six. His boss even asked him to take a drug test, and wasn't that a fun conversation? He had hickeys on top of hickeys and his face hurt from smiling so wide. It was awesome. If everyone on the planet was getting fucked like this, there would be instant world peace. Everyone would be too busy trying to light a post-coital smoke to worry about things like the angry guys on the other side of the border. (And those angry guys would probably be a whole lot more mellow.)

He'd always been confident, you know. He was pretty good looking, he was well put together, he worked out- well, a little. Sometimes. And he'd had a few boyfriends, and a handful of experimental one night stands in college, and they'd all seemed appreciative of what he had to offer in the bedroom. But the way Sebastian reacted to him. God. Blaine's sexual confidence was through the roof.

"God, baby," the taller man had whispered, pinning him against the living room wall. "I love how you wear your hair, all slicked back and proper. And those bow ties... I just want to rip them off with my teeth every time I see you..."

So he felt justified in singing "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" one Tuesday at The Rack (so named for its pool tables, not for its bartender). The answer, apparently, was yes. They had barely made it to the dingy bathroom in the back, and only narrowly escaped a lifetime ban. Things were great. Casual, no pressure, and above all, fun.

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><p>"Hey, baby?" Blaine poked his head out of the bathroom, still brushing his teeth, in response to the call. "I don't remember if we've talked about it, do you like musicals?"<p>

Blaine took a moment to spit, rinse with water, and pat his face dry before joining Sebastian. "I'm a gay man in New York. What do you think?" he teased, perching on the edge of the bed.

"Well, there is 'musical theater gay' and 'leather bar gay', amongst the many rainbow flavors, and while I'm pretty sure you've never worn a choke collar for fun, I didn't want to assume," came the smirking retort. "Your ears are turning red, is there something you want to share?" Sebastian scooted closer, wrapping arms around his waist and nipping at the earlobe in question. Blaine squirmed.

"I may or not have had a misadventure in S&M that got really strange, really fast, and ended with him dumping me on Christmas because I wouldn't let him piss on me, and wow, we have gotten really, really off topic. In answer to your first question, yes, I like musicals. Can we go back to that part of the conversation? Please?" The words tumbled quickly from his lips, and he could feel his face burning.

Sebastian laughed, dropping a kiss on the nape of his neck. "You are just too damn cute, I swear. But yes, we can go back to the first part. The part where I tell you I have tickets to latest revival of Phantom of the Opera this Friday night. One of my friends is playing Raoul, and there's party afterwards. If you want to come with me, that would be nice. Otherwise I have to take my sister, and that's kind of lame."

"You're kidding! I love that show!" Blaine almost bounced with excitement. "I mean, are you sure it's okay? I don't want to get in your way, or whatever."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you there. There are going to be a lot of my friends I haven't seen in a while at the party, though, so I hope you don't end up feeling left out." At this point, Sebastian was tugging him backwards to lie down across the pillows, his mind no longer on the subject.

"Oh no, that's fine. I have to open on Saturday anyway, so I might just leave a little early from the party, but as long as- oh!" Warm hands were tugging off his boxers, and a hot, wet mouth latched on to his hipbone, derailing his train of thought. Blaine carded his fingers through his lover's hair, completely willing to be distracted. Friday would take care of itself. Right now, Sebastian was doing something with his tongue that required undivided attention. "Oh God, _right there_!"

This party was insane, Blaine decided as he carefully sipped at his drink. It was only his second, and he'd already decided it was his last. Work was going to come way too early in the morning, and the last thing he needed was to show up late, or worse, hung over. Looking around, he guessed he was the only person in the house who was being held back by such considerations. The music was loud, mostly house mixes and electronica, as good as any nightclub he'd ever been to. The house was crowded, the booze was flowing. To his right, a blond was dancing on top of the coffee table without a shirt on. To his left, a pair of twinks were dry humping against the wall, sucking on each other's necks. There were clusters of people talking and laughing, and clusters of people who looked like an orgy might break out at any minute. And everyone, everyone seemed to think this was completely normal. This party was insane.

At least the people were friendly, and mostly in a good way. He turned back to his conversation with a loud spoken girl who had introduced herself as Mercedes. She apparently was a friend of a girl in the cast, even if she didn't often go to the after parties. Her boyfriend, a tall blond named Sam, looked like he'd just stepped off a beach, or an Abercrombie photo shoot.

"Uh uh, white boy. There is no way that Katy Perry is better than my Mary J. I'll take music with meaning and heart any day, over yet another recycled bubblegum pop princess," the argument continued.

"I didn't say better! I just said that I like music that's upbeat more than the stuff that makes me want to cut myself and weep mascara!" Blaine shot back, eyes twinkling.

"What the- no! No, no, no! That's it, I can't talk to you anymore. You're clearly defective. That, or all that hair gel has seeped into your brain and killed not just your fashion sense, but your good taste. Now apologize to the music gods, and be off with you!" For all her harsh words, Mercedes was clearly trying not to burst out laughing.

"Ohmygod. I want to keep you. Can I keep you?" he gave her the biggest happy-puppy eyes he could muster, bouncing in place and almost spilling his drink in the process. Sam snorted.

"Have her. She's got expensive tastes, though. Sure you can afford her salon bills?" he teased, gently elbowing his girlfriend, who rounded on him in disbelief.

"The hell did you just say?"

At this point, someone grabbed Blaine's arm, stumbling into him. "There you are!" Sebastian slurred. His hair was mussed, his shirt was buttoned crooked, and and a faint sheen of perspiration shone on his upper lip. "C'mon, I want you to meet- to meet... Hang on." He sagged against him, taking a deep breath. "Mm. Tequila. Wait! Jesse. I want you to meet Jesse. He was awesome tonight-" Sebastian half-turned, dragging Blaine with him, to face the well-groomed man who had played Raoul earlier that evening. He was a little tousled himself, and had a tipsy brunette on his arm that looked vaguely familiar.

"Jesse St. James. Nice to meet you," he flashed a smile, extending a hand.

"Blaine Anderson," he replied, automatically trying to shake his hand, while juggling a drink and Sebastian's decreasing coordination. "You were pretty fantastic."

"I know. I'm glad that-" The brunette cut off his reply.

"And I'm Rachel Barbara Berry, Jesse's girlfriend. What did you think of my performance? I am well aware that the role of Meg is one that carries less stage time and fewer opportunities to showcase my voice, but considering that this is my first actual Broadway credit, allowances can be made. There is always room for growth and improvement. Sebastian tells me that you are a performer yourself. Do you have any notes for me?" Large brown eyes, slightly glazed with alcohol, burned into him with anticipation.

"I wouldn't say I'm a performer, exactly. I just sing at a few coffee shops and bars, you know. Karaoke and open mic things. But I can tell you're talented!" Blaine added hastily, as her face began to fall. He never could stand to hurt anyone's feelings, and clearly this was important to her.

"Thank you!" she gushed, before looking past him. "Mercedes! You came! What did you think of me tonight? Come meet my boyfriend!" Jesse let himself be dragged past with an amused wave. Clearly, Blaine had been dismissed. His attention returned to Sebastian, who was trying to simultaneously steal his drink and untuck his shirt.

"What on earth are you trying to do?" He looked around for somewhere to set down his cup.

"Mm. Want you. You smell good," came the response, punctuated with a hot puff of breath, redolent with alcohol.

"Huh uh, Boozy McGee. I have to get home and go to bed. Work, remember?" Blaine chewed his lower lip worriedly. Would it be okay to just leave him here in this condition? He remembered a key check at the front door, but he wasn't sure how the other man would navigate getting a cab home, or if there were crashing privileges here.

"Ooh, bed. Take me there. Home. Bed. Yeah, that one." Sebastian attached himself to his neck, hand roaming down to grab at his ass.

"Right!" Blaine squeaked. "I guess I should." It was probably for the best. If Sebastian tried to leave by himself, there probably wouldn't be anyone to stop him, and he could get hurt or lost. It was getting pretty late, by his standards at least.

The ride back to the apartment was eventful, to say the least. Not only was Sebastian handsy and horny, he also was too drunk to maintain an erection which made him randomly burst into tears. By the time Blaine half-carried him through the lobby, to the elevators, to the apartment (and waging an epic battle over the keys), they crossed the threshold just in time for the cycle of drunkenness to reach "Vomit".

Blaine left the other man slumped against the toilet in the front bathroom, shucking off his now disgusting clothes. He threw them into a garbage bag to be washed later, and spent twenty minutes cleaning up a puddle of puke from the entry way in his boxers.

"Baaaaby... I don't feel so-" the sounds sickness echoed against the walls. With a wince, he pitched the rags he'd been using, washed his hands, and snagged a glass to take with him into the bathroom.

"Shh, it's okay," Blaine smoothed back Sebastian's bangs, placing a cool hand on the back of his neck as he continued to empty his stomach. His own guts twisted, and he held back a sympathy puke by force of will. "Here." He helped him swish and spit, then again with mouthwash, cleaned his face, and helped him take off his soiled shirt. "All done?"

Sebastian just groaned, his forehead pressed to the porcelain bowl. Blaine made a comforting sound, urging the other man to his feet- well, his knees- and leading him to bed. He gently pulled off his shoes and slacks, and tucked him in under the covers, with a trashcan and a glass of water close at hand. Just when he was debating climbing in to pass out for – he checked the clock- a two hour nap, the doorbell rang. He frowned. Who on earth...?

Blaine grabbed a robe from Sebastian's closet, hastily belting it and going to answer the front door. To his surprise, it was none other than Jesse St. James, who took in his less-than-dressed appearance with a frown.

"I'd ask if 'Bastian was home, but it looks like you work faster than I do," the actor snarked.

"Sorry," he stammered, pulling the robe closed over his bare chest. "Was there something you needed? He just fell asleep," he offered apologetically.

"Well, he told me earlier to come over once I'd ditched Rachel, and he'd remind me of that thing he does with his tongue, but it looks like his tongue is already busy tonight." The once-over he gave him was completely dismissive.

Blaine's jaw started to drop, then he remembered his manners, and quickly shut his mouth. "I'll let him know you came by. Maybe give him a call tomorrow?" It wasn't any of his business what Sebastian got up to, he reminded himself. They'd said from the start that they were neither exclusive nor serious. Even if he hadn't been on a date since well before this whole thing began.

"Do that. I'm not into threesomes unless they're all about me, so rain check?" Jesse flashed a condescending smile, and headed back down the hallway. He shook his head, shutting the door firmly and flipping the deadbolt. Seriously? Shaking his head, he checked in with a happily snoring Sebastian, then tossed the robe into the corner, and climbed into bed. If he didn't catch at least a few winks, he was going to be absolutely useless for work. Then he remembered. He didn't have any clothes here. And Sebastian was too narrow in the waist and shoulders, and too long in the leg to have anything that would fit him even remotely. Blaine groaned, scrubbing his palms across his face. Got up, found a pair of track pants and a t-shirt. Grabbed his messenger bag and key, and headed out. This was looking to be a Red Bull kind of day.

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><p><strong>AN: Not to be one of those authors that always begs for reviews, since the flood of Story Alerts was validation in and of itself, but I'd really appreciate any feedback you'd like to give. This is the first thing I've written in years, and I'd love to how you're feeling about it. - Jo<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: General disclaimer in first chapter. No chapter specific warnings or disclaimers needed at this time. Thank you to those that reviewed, it really makes me happy. I am also in the market for a beta. Please let me know if you are interested. **

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><p><em>Dear Blaine,<em>

_I feel like I should apologize for my recent behavior, and at the same time, I feel like I shouldn't need to. You've been extremely understanding about my not wanting things to get too serious, but I haven't really told you why. The thing is, it's only been a few months since Ford broke things off with me, and I guess I still haven't dealt with how deeply hurt I was. Still am. He didn't even have the courage to tell me, I just came home one day, and most of his things were gone. There was a note, saying that he'd met someone new, and didn't want to 'deal' with me anymore. Because of all this, I'm trying to be cautious. I'm trying to decide what I really want, what I really need out of life and relationships, and all of those things. I'm sorry if it makes me selfish, but I think I deserve this time to really figure things out._

_All that being said, I want to make sure you know that you are one of my favorite people. Thank you for taking care of me the other night. I know you got into some trouble at work, but you didn't let it stop you from being there when I needed someone. It really goes to show that you are a good person, and a good friend and I appreciate it. I like you, more than I think you realize. In the interests of full disclosure, I have a confession to make. The night we ran into each other at The Rack wasn't an accident. After the New Year's party, I asked Nick how I could meet you again, and he told me all about your Tuesday night bar habit. I had seen you around when our social circles overlap, and I've been wanting to get to know you better for a long time. You seemed like the kind of guy that is just great to be with – and it doesn't hurt that you're sex on a stick and sing like a dream._

_I'm always going to be honest with you, and I can honestly say that I'm so glad that you're a part of my life. I hope that you get where I'm coming from, and I want to see you again. Call me, we'll make plans._

_Affectionately, _

_Sebastian_

A smile tugged at Blaine's lips, as he folded the letter back into its envelope. He'd been surprised to get back to David's place and see a delivery of roses, but it was really the carefully penned note inside that wiped away the last of his irritation. He considered his course of action, as he went through the motions of refilling the cat food dispenser, topping off the water dish, tossing a few plates and glasses in the dishwasher. In all of his past relationships, Blaine had been the one to make the first move. It was pretty flattering to think that not only had Sebastian been the one to pursue him, but that he'd been attracted to him for a while. Especially since it was being made clear that it was an attraction based on more than just appearance.

There was a slightly giddy feeling building in his chest, one that he sort of dismissed. Yes, he liked Sebastian, liked spending time with him. Liked all the things they did together, with and without clothing. It was kind of nice to just let things flow, he decided. To let things be spontaneous and not worry about labels or where things were going. They were young, and didn't have to have all the answers right now. It was enough to just enjoy the moment.

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><p>It was about two months since the night Sebastian had bought him that first drink. And in that time, they'd settled into something comfortable and casual. Both of them had gone on a few dates with other people - Sebastian more often than Blaine, but it wasn't like he was keeping track. Nights when 'Bastian was busy, he just stayed at David's, and played around on his guitar or the keyboard. More and more often, though, he spent the night at the other man's apartment. He even had a drawer there, with a few changes of clothes and an overnight kit (toothbrush, contact case, shaving supplies, the usual). Other than a stop on his way from work every couple of days to make sure the cat wouldn't starve, he barely spent any time at the empty apartment.<p>

This was nice, Blaine thought sleepily. His head was cushioned against Sebastian's bare shoulder, their legs entwined. Soft music played in the background, something instrumental that was lulling his eyes shut. Lips pressed against his temple, and he snuggled closer, wincing as a strained muscle in his back protested. He laughed quietly. Who needed a gym to work out? He got all the exercise he could ever want right here.

"Baby?" Sebastian murmured against his hair, fingers tracing gently down his spine.

"Hm?" Blaine tilted his chin, planting a kiss on his jaw. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to tell you... how incredible everything has been since we really started spending time together." He brushed his lips against Blaine's forehead, then his cheek, then captured his mouth in a kiss. Pulling back slightly, Sebastian's breath ghosted across his face. "And I'm falling in love with you."

He froze, mind kicking into a frantic high gear. The first thought was that the statement was bullshit. No matter how happy or giddy or whatever Sebastian was feeling, actual love was something that took time and effort. It was scientifically proven that the rush associated with "falling in love" was just a release of seratonin and other brain chemicals, and that once they settled down after around ninety days, then genuine emotional attachment began. So there was no way that Blaine was in love with Sebastian, because they hadn't been around each other long enough to come down from their chemical infatuation. But clearly, clearly 'Bastian didn't think about all those things, and was instead just going with his feelings.

God. What should he do? He couldn't say it back, not when he knew he didn't mean it. But Sebastian's brow was starting to furrow, and he was pulling away slightly, and was that hurt in his eyes?

"Thank you?" he managed, knowing at the same time that it was exactly the wrong thing to say. "I mean, 'Bastian, I care about you, a lot, and-" he backpedaled frantically, trying to save the situation. They'd been having such a wonderful evening!

"It's okay. We said we'd always be honest with each other, and you don't have to feel the same." He had moved away completely at this point, sitting up on the edge of the bed, his back to Blaine. "I was just, you know. Hopeful. I've been pretty lonely since Ford... well. I suppose I thought I'd found something in you. I'm not looking to change things, I'm not ready for that. I just wanted you to know. That I do. I love you."

"I just, I'm kind of surprised, okay? We didn't-" Blaine reached out and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, heart dropping when he shrugged it off. "I don't-" he tried again.

"Maybe you should go home tonight." Sebastian stood up, grabbed his robe, and walked out of the bedroom.

Blaine didn't move for a long moment, staring at the doorway as lights flipped on in the rest of the apartment. Slowly, he sat up, shivering in the sudden absence of warmth beside him. He tugged on his clothing and checked his pockets for wallet and keys. When he got to the living room, Sebastian was on his laptop, earphones firmly in place, pointedly ignoring the movement behind him.

"I'll call you tomorrow? So we can talk?" he offered weakly, crossing into his field of vision. Sebastian made a noncommittal noise, so he decided maybe a goodbye kiss was pushing it. The apartment door closing behind him felt like something more permanent than "Good night". Blaine had never felt more confused in his life as he started his late-night trip across the city that never sleeps.

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><p>Things weren't looking much clearer the next morning. Sebastian wasn't responding to any of his text messages, and his phone rang straight through to voice mail. Blaine didn't want to push, didn't want to be that guy, but he really wanted to talk to him. It's not that he didn't think he couldn't fall in love with him someday - even someday soon. It was that when he was sixteen, he'd rushed into falling in love over and over, and when that first blush of chemical rush faded away, he'd been left in awkward situations - like singing sexually charged songs in the middle of the Gap. To him, love was a choice, and a commitment, more than just a fuzzy emotion. So for Sebastian to say those words to him, when they weren't even serious to begin with... it was complicated.<p>

He knew that he didn't want to lose whatever it was the two of them had. He didn't want to lose Sebastian. It was killing him how upset he'd made him. More than anything, Blaine wanted to fix this. He wanted to find a way to make it work. After his shift making overpriced coffee drinks for people in an enormous hurry, he went for a long walk. At first, it was because of his indecision: should he go to 'Bastian's, the way he usually would? Or should he head over to David's for a long night in which he'd stare at the wallpaper and fight with that damn cat? Without his conscious awareness, his feet made the decision for him. Blaine came back to himself suddenly, looking up at the Law Offices of Hamilton & Smythe, where Sebastian was a junior partner owing to nepotism and charisma. He blinked a few times, and realized that there was a tall, slender man in a suit heading in his general direction, briefcase in hand, and clearly finished for the day. He took it as a sign, and moved to intercept.

"Sebastian!" he called, taking a few running steps. His voice cracked, heart thumping wildly against his ribs. Was he really going to do this? "I love you, too!"

Sebastian froze, half-turning to face him. "Blaine?"

Heedless of the impatient bustle of workers trying to move around him on the sidewalk, the shorter man rushed forward. "I know I didn't say it earlier, because you surprised me and I was confused, and I really just wanted to think about it for a little bit, because since we said this wasn't a big thing, I guess I didn't see it as an option and I didn't realize it or something at the time, but you're really important to me, and the last thing I want to do is lose you, and I'm so sorry it took this long, and that you were upset and hurt, and I do." Hazel eyes flicked earnestly from side to side as he spoke, because it wasn't really a lie. He wasn't in love with Sebastian. But he probably could be, and what could it hurt, this little white deception, if it helped smooth things over and get them back to the place where they could be happy together? It would be fine.

Sebastian's hands were suddenly cupping his face, briefcase dropped on the sidewalk. "Do you mean it?"

Blaine's tongue darted out nervously, wetting his suddenly dry lips. "I love you," he lied, knowing full well that he was lying. It would be worth it, in the end. A mouth crashed suddenly against his own, and he melted against his lover.

"Let's go home," the taller man whispered huskily when they finally came up for air. "I want to show you just how much it means to me, that you'd come all the way here to tell me. And when we physically can't move anymore, we'll order Chinese and watch something mindless, so I can just hold you. Is that okay, baby?"

A brilliant, relieved smile. "That sounds wonderful." A tiny seed of guilt planted itself in his guts. Blaine reached for Sebastian's hand.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: General disclaimer in first chapter. Chapter specific warnings include nudity, foul language, and sexual shenanigans. Reviews are the sunshine in my life. I won't beg for them, but I bask when they are forthcoming. It's a little shorter than I'd like, but I spent two days staring at it, trying to figure out what else should go in this chapter, and pretty much decided to move on.**

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><p>In August, just a few months later, David came back from his tour in Afghanistan to reclaim his apartment, and the cat that came with it. That same week, Blaine officially moved in with his boyfriend. It was so easy, the way they fell into a comfortable routine. Weekdays, they would wake up early, and Blaine fixed breakfast while Sebastian got ready for his day at the firm. Depending on Blaine's work schedule, he would either leave at the same time for the early shift, or he'd mess around until his late shift started, or more often, he'd read, clean, write music, or watch Matlock reruns on his days off. Most nights, one of them would throw dinner together, they'd eat it on the couch with a movie, and they'd entertain themselves however until around midnight, when Sebastian would head for the bedroom. Blaine would follow close behind.<p>

There were hiccups in the routine – sometimes Blaine went out for lunch or dinner with friends, some nights Sebastian went on dates or on business dinners with clients. Blaine was never invited to those. If he came home to find Sebastian's colleagues there, he knew to grab a clean shirt and head out. He'd usually go see some off-off Broadway show, or catch a old film at Reel Classics. Sometimes, he hung out with David and Wes (who was overjoyed his buddy was back), but not too often. They were full of awkward questions, and it frustrated him that they didn't get it. They couldn't just be happy for him. Because he was. Happy, that is.

It didn't bother him that Sebastian slept around. Sex was just sex. The commitment and relationship belonged to him. It didn't matter if some other guy got a blow job in the back room of a gay bar, or got fucked after dinner. Blaine was who he came to. They lived together, for God's sake. That meant something. He was happy enough to let 'Bastian do what he was going to do anyway. Blaine was not at all hung up about sex. If he had been, he'd never survive the parties.

That's where the weekends came in. Every other Friday night, like clockwork, Sebastian threw open the doors of his giant loft apartment – and shit got real. These shindigs made "Animal House" look like a bunch of five year olds playing with tea sets. One entire wall of the dining room was taken up by a fully stocked professional bar. Bowls of prophylactics were tucked in convenient spots in every room. Hard drug use was discouraged – there would be no piles of blow on the coffee table, no grab bags of pills. Other than that? Anything goes.

Blaine learned a few things about Sebastian at these parties.

"Hon?" he murmured, sagging against the bedroom's door frame, watching his lover pound into a buxom, writhing redhead. "Did I know you were bisexual?" He took another sip of his drink.

"I'm not really," Sebastian answered conversationally, gripping the girl's neck and forcing her head back against the pillows. Her high pitched moans almost drowned out his reply. "I just have an occasional appreciation for a self-lubricating orifice." They both laughed.

And, one strange September morning, Blaine learned a little something about himself.

He groaned, the mid-morning light falling through the curtains to stab his brain like tiny, angry icepicks. His mouth tasted like a small, furry animal had crawled inside and died. Neuron by neuron, his brain started to process sensory input. There was a warm body plastered up against his back, an arm thrown over his waist, and there was a hand sort of cupping his testicles. His body thought about getting excited, especially when that hand delicately rolled his balls, but then another shard of owie-pain pierced his temple, and ended the debate.

He shifted. Something wasn't right. The body spooning him was short. And soft. One eyelid peeled back, he glanced down. The hand on his dick had a French manicure. A sleepy female voice muttered in Spanish against his neck. Something about light, sleep, and... whores? Whimpering through his hangover, Blaine rolled to his other side, disentangling from his new lady-slash-octopus friend.

"Santana?" he shook her gently, then jumped back when she threw off the covers. He squeaked. That was most definitely an extremely naked girl. In his bed. And Sebastian was nowhere in sight.

"Jesusfuck," complained the Latina, who was looking less than her usually fabulous best. Messy, tangled hair off set her makeup-induced raccoon eyes, lipstick smeared down to her chin. "I'm... I'm still drunk. I think." She sat up, swaying.

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, reaching into his dresser and blindly thrusting an undershirt and boxers at the naked lady who had her bare cookies on his sheets. For himself, he grabbed boxers and his robe.

"Slow your roll, Hobbit. You'd think you'd never been this close to a snatch before," she half-smiled, squinting. Then there was some sort of – scratching or rummaging, or something with her naked self, and Blaine's ability to handle this with out caffeine abruptly ran out.

"Oh my Jesus God. Please, please cover yourself. I'm making breakfast."

A few minutes later, face scrubbed clean and a hair tie doing its best to tame her wild locks, Santana sat down at the kitchen counter. They seemed to be the first ones up, though there were still a few piles of unconscious party-goers in various other rooms. He thunked a bottle of Gatorade in front of her, his own already half-empty. The Excedrin was open, and the fancy espresso machine was doing its thing. Blaine popped a pair bagels in the toaster, then turned abruptly. "Pussy juice," he practically threw the words at her.

"The fuck are you- oh, yeah. That's what we were drinking last night," she started to laugh. "Haven't you had it before?"

"I thought he was calling it Pussy Juice because it was, you know, for pussies. Lightweights. Low alcohol content. Like Smirnoff Ice gets called Bitch Beer." Butter and cream cheese went on the counter, and he pulled a pair of mugs out of a cabinet.

"You are killing me. Puck's Pussy Juice is a handle of Everclear, two bottles of light rum, and a gallon of raspberry lemonade. It tastes like candy and gets you laid like a rock star. Literally. Have more than two, and you'll have a blackout so intense, you could have done anything. It's like, bucket o' roofies. Only, you know, legal and shit." Santana popped two painkillers and chased it down with her nasty sport beverage.

"My mistake. Clearly. Do you know..." Blaine trailed off, eying her nervously. Santana had pushed her boobs together, and had her face dropped down to smell her cleavage. "...what are you...?" he tried again.

She rubbed her hand down her sternum, then sniffed it. "My tits smell like lube and ball sweat." She seemed quite matter-of-fact about it.

"I- wha- Why would you think to check for that?" Blaine was dismayed, leaning against the counter, praying that his coffee would be ready before his head split open to let the demon climb out through his face.

"Do you remember me, you, and Puckerman having an epic discussion about breasts? You saying you don't get the appeal, me and Puck insisting that they're awesome?" she coaxed, one eyebrow raised.

"Vaguely. I drank a lot of … juice." The coffee was finally ready, so he poured it expertly into mugs, adding cinnamon to his own, cream and sugar to hers. The toaster popped, and he settled in the chair next to hers, trying to remember what the hell had gone down.

"I'm pretty sure that we convinced you not to knock it 'till you've tried it," Santana temporized, taking a sip of hot brown bean juice of the gods, eyes twinkling merrily.

"Fair enough. I mean, I've kissed some girls, but even when I was going through my bi-curious phase, I never got to second base," Blaine chuckled, then panic filled him. "Did we...?"

"Nope. I am fully confident that we did not have sexual intercourse last night," she replied honestly. There was something suspicious about the look of anticipation that crossed her face.

"Oh thank God. Not to be mean-" he was torn between relief and a desire to not offend her.

"But I seem to remember you tittyfucking me." All the blood drained from Blaine's face, as the horror of her statement penetrated his brain. "Hey. Don't look like that. You aren't the one with cum in your hair," she smirked.

"Well, this morning anyway," Blaine joked without thinking.

Santana cracked up. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

The smell of coffee was luring more than one sleepy, disheveled figure towards the kitchen area. Touselled heads peeked around the door frame. Blaine smiled wryly, and started pulling more mugs out of the cupboard. "The coffee's free, but you're on your own for breakfast, kids."

"There goes our Hallmark moment," Santana sighed, eyes twinkling as she picked up her bagel. Sebastian stumbled in, shirtless, pushing past his friends. He dropped a tired kiss on Blaine's shoulder, and helped himself to his coffee.

"Ugh. Why do you always put cinnamon in it?" he complained.

"Because I like it," came the calm reply. "Here, spice free." Blaine filled up a fresh mug, adding cream and sugar, and handing it to his sleepy boyfriend.

"You're awesome. Someone puked in the bathtub again," Sebastian mumbled, taking a long drink.

Blaine scowled, and shot a glare around the room. "Anyone who doesn't want to help clean had better be out of here in the next half hour." He usually left the post-party cleanup for a day or two, but he wanted a shower. And that wasn't going to happen until the bathroom was vomit-free.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: General disclaimer in first chapter. I can't even explain to you how long I spent online researching designers and menswear trends for the first few paragraphs. But the outfit I finally picked is pimptastic.**

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><p>Blaine was grabbing a hooded sweatshirt from the back of his closet to throw on over his t-shirt, when Sebastian stepped out of their bathroom and gave a twirl.<p>

"How do I look?"

Blaine's eyebrows gave a valiant attempt at merging with his hairline. His boyfriend was wearing an immaculately tailored charcoal gray 3-piece suit with a clinging ice blue silk knit top. His black designer shoes were polished to a mirror shine.

"Wow. Love the new suit. Is it Prada?" he managed, taking in the way the jacket skimmed the other man's shoulders, and hugged his waist just so.

"Armani, actually. Is the hat too much, do you think?" Sebastian brought out a charcoal fedora.

"Just a bit. Besides, I can tell you spent a long time on your hair. You don't want to mess it up." Blaine smoothed down his lapel and twitched his collar. "What's the occasion?"

"I have reservations at Le Bernardin. You're still going to Wes' place for that thing?" Sebastian glanced at his reflection in the vanity mirror. His boyfriend's eyes widened at the mention of the famous four star French restaurant in Midtown Manhattan.

"House of the Dead tournament, yeah. I might crash over there...?" Blaine offered, taking a step back.

Sebastian shrugged, doing one last check of his hair. "If you want to. I don't know what time I'll be back," he glanced at him with a half smirk. "Or if I'll be back at all." Two small steps had him crowding Blaine against the wall, so he could feel the heat of his body pressing against him.

"Okay," Blaine breathed, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation, at the welcome dizziness brought on by the smell of Sebastian's cologne, by the feel of his mouth being captured in a searing kiss. A long moment passed, in which Sebastian's tongue stroked teasingly against his own.

"I love you." The words were whispered against his slightly reddened lips.

"I love you, too. Have fun tonight." Blaine's tongue darted out almost nervously.

"I always do." Sebastian winked at him, and then he was gone.

Blaine sighed, just the once, a wide smile on his face before he caught sight of the time. "Shit!" Wallet and keys went into the pockets of his loose cargo pants, and he stuffed an extra X-Box controller into his messenger bag. He shoved his feet into sneakers on the way out the door. It might only be a night of video games, pizza, and beer with the guys, but there was never a good excuse for tardiness.

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><p>When he reached his destination, Wes threw open the door and gave him a concerned once-over. His jaw clenched and he clearly hesitated before reaching out to take Blaine's elbow and ushering him inside. "Are you okay?" he managed.<p>

"Yes? Why? Did something happen?" Alarm crossed Blaine's features, and he could feel the beginning of panic stirring. What was going on?

"Uh, no. Never mind." Wes looked relieved, then faintly embarrassed. "I'm just being stupid." He gave a half-hearted grin, exchanging a look with David that he did not miss. Blaine looked around the casual living room. Nick, Jeff, and Trent were there in addition to Wes and David, all of them friends he'd known since their college acappella days. They were all staring at him.

"What?" he asked again, eyes narrowing. They were keeping something from him, he just knew it.

"I'm sorry," said Wes, scrubbing a palm across his face. "I just saw you, and I freaked out a little bit."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Blaine was starting to get grumpy. He'd come over here to relax, have some fun with his friends, not deal with whatever was going on.

"Trent, what was Blaine wearing last time we had a movie night?" David cut in, with a seeming change in subject.

"Grey slacks, a light blue and pink checked button down, pink bow tie," Trent rattled off in a bored tone, opening a bottle of Bud Light Lime and leaning back in his seat. Unfortunately for him, he had an eidetic memory for clothing, and was used to these kinds of pop quizzes.

"And when was the last time you saw him in, in a sweatshirt and ripped cargo pants, and _no_ _gel_?" Wes continued, sounding almost scandalized.

Trent's jaw dropped and he sat up abruptly. "Spring, three years ago. Patrick Milner." The last phrase was a shocked whisper.

"Oh my God!" Nick jumped to his feet. "Do you need ice cream or chocolate or cuddles?"

"Wait! Hang on!" Blaine put up his hands, forestalling any more commentary from his well-meaning yet hopelessly mistaken friends. "Sebastian and I are doing just fine. I was running late, and threw on something comfortable. That's all. I swear. No heartbreak or drama."

The five men gave simultaneous sighs of relief.

"The pizza's on the way. You should grab a controller," Jeff jerked his chin in the direction of the wide screen plasma set up, with its surround sound and multiple gaming consoles. "Do you want a beer?"

"After all that? Hell, yes," Blaine laughed. The weird tension settled, and the guys all got back to the very serious business of killing zombies. Several hundred shambling digital corpses met their final death over the next few hours. So did a case of beer and three large pies with the works.

"Man," commented David, lining up for his next kill shot. "It seems like forever since we did this."

"Whose fault is that, Sergeant Sand Dune?" Wes fired back. David pulled a face at him in response.

While they bickered, Nick gently nudged Blaine with his shoulder. "Are you completely sure everything is okay? Usually you're checking your phone every five minutes to see if Sebastian has called or texted. I haven't seen you go for your cell once all night." He kept his voice quiet, and concern was written in his body language. Blaine managed a smile, and nudged him back.

"I'm not that bad," he protested jokingly. "But I know he won't try to get a hold of me tonight, not unless something goes really wrong," he relented.

"Why's that?" Nick cocked his head to the side curiously.

"He's on a date." Blaine's answer was nonchalant, but he couldn't help but notice that every head in the room slowly turned towards him. "What?"

"Sebastian goes out on dates? With other guys?" choked out Wes.

"Yes. It's an open relationship," he spoke slowly and carefully, as if his friend was a little slow himself.

"Bear with me for a moment. When I hear 'open relationship', I think it's okay to, I don't know, make out with someone at a party, maybe fool around at one of those orgies you guys are always throwing," Wes began, the others nodding their agreement. "But he actually wines and dines and goes on actual dates? The hell is wrong with you? How can you possibly be okay with this, especially with how wrecked you were when Patrick was screwing around on you?"

Blaine looked from face to familiar face, all wearing the same look of concern and confusion. He gritted his teeth, and silently counted to ten. Twice. Then he took a deep breath, irritation making his words sharp. "First of all, Sebastian is not cheating on me. He likes to meet new people, he likes the chase, and he likes the fancy dinners. I'm sorry if you've never been in a relationship where you could trust each other completely, but this is my life, and my decision. Who 'Bastian goes out with – and who he goes home with – is none of your damn business because he's honest with me about it. I agreed to it. And I have the same freedom. I can sleep with whoever I damn please, and he's fine with it. I love him, and being with him is what makes me happy. So if you're really the good friends you're claiming to be, you'll butt out. Be happy for me, or shut the fuck up." His eyes were blazing, first clenched at his sides.

"Whoa!" Jeff, their usual peacemaker, threw up his hands and leaned forward. "Blaine, none of use is trying to jump on your back about your private life."

"Well, it sure seems that-" Blaine began hotly, before Jeff interrupted again.

"Hold on! Look, I'm sorry you're so upset right now. Maybe Wes could have been more tactful in expressing his concern," he shot the other man a look, and Wes grudgingly inclined his head in agreement. "The absolute bottom line is this: Blaine, you are my friend, and I love you like a brother. I don't care if you're polygamous, Polynesian, or – God help us all- _straight_. We just want you to be happy, alright?"

There was a long, tense minute where Blaine intently considered his friends' expressions, and found only apology and sincerity. Then Trent gave a dramatic shudder. "I can't imagine you being straight. It makes me think of lady parts, and that is just... ew."

There was a strained chuckle, then David tossed a controller at Blaine. "C'mon, dawg," he drawled with exaggerated urban diction. "Let's legit waste some motherfuckin' zombies, yo." He pursed his lips and jutted out his chin, posing like the cover to a rap album. Nick chucked a throw pillow at his head, and they all started to laugh.

"I'm pretty sure that you're not black enough to pull that off, sweet cheeks," Trent remarked condescendingly.

"Hey!"

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><p>The following morning, Blaine woke before his alarm to the feeling of kisses being pressed against his jawline. He stretched, making a small sound of contentment, before his eyes fluttered open.<p>

"Good morning, baby," Sebastian whispered. "I brought you breakfast." He held up a paper bag and a coffee cup from the fancy French bakery a few blocks away.

Blaine wiggled into a seated position. Sebastian, still dressed in last night's rumpled suit, chose a croissant and curled up next to him. "Did you have fun with your friends last night?"

Blaine hesitated, before deciding that the last thing he wanted to do on such a lovely morning was start a fight about his friends. "Yes," he replied. "Those zombies never had a chance."

Sebastian hummed. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about Kurt – that's the guy I've been seeing. I want you to meet him."

He paused, letting the statement sink in, and took a drink to buy himself a moment. "This chai is amazing," he temporized.

"Baby," Sebastian gave him a chiding look, and took one of his hands. "We never really talked about this. I know you've known some of the guys I've seen casually, you've been here for some hook ups, but I want you to listen. This is different. Kurt's different. He's..." A soft smile tugged at his lips. "He's special. Amazing. And I think if you give him a chance, you'll adore him."

Blaine studied him. He was certainly acting differently this time. Sebastian had never asked for him to meet one of his men before. His gaze flicked to the pastries, to the fancy drink in his hand. Certainly this was important enough to try to butter him up for. "I take it this is what you really want?" he asked quietly.

"Blaine, we promised we'd never try to change each other, and that we wouldn't try to put limits or chains on one another. I'd like for you to meet him, because I think it'll be great for both of you. The way I feel about him doesn't change the way I feel about you. I love you, you know that. But he's my other boyfriend now, and that relationship deserves your respect." His tone was almost reproachful.

Blaine was taken aback. He'd never really thought this would happen. It was one thing for Sebastian to share his body, his company. He never thought that Sebastian might actually have feelings for someone other than him. He felt a tightness in his chest- hurt, with a hint of jealousy. Was he not enough? He swallowed hard, and thought about what Jeff had said to him the previous night. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against his boyfriend's cheek. "If you're happy, I'm happy," he whispered. He would have to be.

Sebastian's smile was breathtaking. "I knew you'd understand." He kissed him firmly one more time, then rolled off the bed. "I need a shower before work. See you tonight?"

"I'll make dinner," Blaine smiled back. Everything was going to be just fine.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** **General disclaimer in first chapter. Chapter specific warnings include minor drug use, and foul language. I was planning on some sexual situations, but I decided to save it for the next chapter. I hope that I meet and exceed expectations on this one.**

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><p>The doorbell rang insistently. Blaine glanced at the clock on the microwave and frowned. It was at least an hour before even the earliest party guest usually arrived. He wiped his dripping hands on a dish towel, and flipped the lid shut on the large chest he'd been filling with ice. His breath caught. Maybe Sebastian had asked Kurt to come over early. If so, why was he making a last minute munchie run instead of staying to make introductions? Blaine crossed the living room in hesitant strides, unsure as to whether he was excited or terrified. He jerked the door open before he could change his mind, blushing and feeling like a complete idiot.<p>

"That's it, honey," Santana drawled, affecting a thick Hispanic accent. "You need to nominate me to the sainthood, for rescuing you from yourself." Blaine blinked at her, taking in her whole outfit, from pigtails and bows to plaid skirt and knee socks. She swung a garment bag into his arms with a smack, and breezed through the doorway. "I'd ask if that's what you're planning to wear, but the answer would depress me," she called back over her shoulder, walking towards the bedroom like it was her home and not his.

"Won't you please come in?" he sighed, shutting the door and trailing in her wake. He caught his own reflection in the hall mirror and scowled, smoothing a hand down his white and red striped polo shirt. He'd pressed his jeans. "I haven't gotten a chance to gel my hair, I was restocking the bar," he bit out, already defensive.

A fleeting expression that might have been pity crossed her face, to be replaced with her habitual superiority. "Bitch, please. Not only is tonight's theme 'naughty or nice', but you're supposed to meet the other man for the first time. For that, you need to be extra smokin' hot." Santana took the garment bag back, and hung it over the closet door. "If he wasn't coming here, then maybe – _maybe_- I'd let you wear your Hippy McHipster gear, but he's coming to your house, your territory, and trust me, this is all about establishing dominance. You were here first, his thing with Sebastian isn't going to mess up your thing with Sebastian. And trust me," her voice turned mischievous. "Auntie 'Tana knows from dominance."

The garment bag unzipped slowly, and Blaine caught a glimpse of black leather and silver metal. He swallowed hard. "Um. I'm pretty sure I can't pull that off," he temporized.

"Okay, Hobbit. Let me lay it down." Hands planted firmly on her hips, Santana rounded on him. "I'm going to win this fight, and here's why. One: tonight is a party, and I want to dress you 'naughty'. Lord knows you've got three thousand versions of 'nice' in that closet. It'll give you a chance to taste test some freaky-deaky, which I'm pretty sure you need in your life. Two: like I said, you need to show the new twink that you've got seniority here. And that you are a totally lickable piece of man-meat. After all that bullshit you heard St. Jackass going on about last week, you deserve the fanboys this is going to earn you."

Blaine winced, looking away, and couldn't help but remember the conversation he'd overheard in the hall the previous week.

_ "I don't understand why you're keeping him around," argued Jesse. "Have you even looked at him lately? He's completely let himself go." His voice was dripping with disdain. _

_ "So he needs a haircut in the worst way. I love him, and you don't get to tell me who I should be with. No one does," defended Sebastian._

_ "A haircut? He needs to shave. And to hit a treadmill. Have you noticed you're not disagreeing with me?" Blaine had never particularly liked Jesse St. James, but he really wanted to punch him in the throat right then._

_ "Whether my boyfriend has put on weight or not is none of your business, Jesse. Shouldn't you be going home to your girlfriend anyway?" Sebastian's voice grew louder as the apartment door cracked open, and Blaine bolted for the bathroom. He didn't want him to know he'd heard. _

"...and third," Santana's voice cut through his reverie, "if you don't do it, I'm going to get 'trashed' tonight and tell everyone about you humping my boobs, and that you've got the biggest dick I've ever seen." She made air quotes, then crossed her arms smugly.

It took a second for the threat to sink in. "You wouldn't," Blaine nearly whimpered, one hand creeping up to his neck. If some of the horny whack-jobs who showed up at these things heard that, he'd never make it through another party unmolested.

Santana narrowed her gaze. "I would. Now get naked."

Blaine gave up.

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><p>The doorbell was ringing. The sound could barely be heard over the pulsing club music coming from the living room's surround sound system. Blaine frowned, considering. The door was opened and shut all night as people came and went, so it shouldn't be locked. And no one stood on much ceremony once things were in full swing, so most people would just wander in. Shrugging to himself, he threaded through the crowd towards the entry way and opened the door. A startled young man stood on the other side, dressed in chic, up to the minute Marc Jacobs casual wear.<p>

"I," the kid hesitated, giving him a once-over. "Sebastian invited me?" It was phrased as a question, though the words themselves were a statement.

Comprehension dawned on him. Maybe it was the pair of shots he'd already indulged in, or Santana's lingering influence as his shoulder-Devil, but he felt a spirit of mischief overcome his normal polite good sense. "You must be Kurt." Boldly, he stepped into the other man's personal space and smoothed his lapels unnecessarily. "I'm Blaine. You should come in." He grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. Kurt tripped a little bit, but Blaine caught his elbow, and wound up almost pressed up against him. The kid blushed and stumbled back. It was cute. He could see the attraction.

"You're Sebastian's boyfriend," Kurt managed nervously, as he took a good look at him.

"That's me," Blaine smiled easily, hiding his own nerves behind a show-face. To be honest, he felt a little bit silly in snug leather pants that miraculously hugged in all the right places. His collarless black shirt had more buckles and zippers on it than it could possibly need. The tank boots weren't bad, and the eyeliner wasn't bothering him as much as he thought it would, but he still felt a little foolish, no matter how Santana had wolf-whistled at her handiwork. "Want me to show you around, or should I just find Sebastian for you? Or I can get you a drink?"

"God, yes," Kurt flushed, then continued, "I mean, you've probably done this whole weird meeting thing, but I've never dated someone who was also dating someone else – at least, not to my knowledge- but you're kind of freaking me out with the leather and also with being nice, and I guess I'm just waiting for some kind of weird initiation cult thing, and this is all way too 'Sister Wives' for me to handle without alcohol, so bar? Please?" The words all tumbled out in a rush, turning his face bright red.

Blaine was startled for a moment, then burst out laughing. "First of all, don't judge me on the outfit." He made a sweeping gesture. "I kind of lost a bet. I'm pretty normal on an average day. Bar's this way." He grabbed his hand again, and guided them through the apartment. Blaine finally dropped it to fill a pair of cups with ice. "What's your poison? We've also got a pretty good selection of beer." For himself, he got out the Kahlua and vanilla vodka to mix up a White Russian.

"Vodka cranberry with a twist?" Kurt arched a brow. "I'm not a big beer drinker." Blaine just grinned, expertly mixing the drink and adding a wedge of lime.

"I'm not a real bartender – barista is more like it – but you pick up a few things here and there," he confided, sliding the cup over. Blaine took a breath, and decided to just go for it. "So I've never formally been introduced to one of 'Bastian's other guys, and he was pretty insistent that we at least meet. It seems to me that makes you pretty special. There's no cult or initiation, or anything crazy like that. It's just how we work. I don't tell him no. He wants to date you, he can. Even if it turns out that you and I hate each other, I'm not going to mess with what you two have going on, and I'd appreciate the same courtesy. So let's at least try to get past the awkwardness."

Kurt laughed, his shoulders losing some of their tension, and he raised his cup. "To getting past the awkwardness," he repeated. They clinked the plastic together and took sips. "Stupid as it sounds, I'm sort of glad this is new to you as well."

"Oh, well, I can at least give you the inside track on the madness," Blaine gestured expansively, taking in the seeming mob of people. "There's some key knowledge you need to get through one of these things," he changed the subject, trying to get back on solid footing. Something about this guy was leaving him a little flustered, and it wasn't just the vodka. "I like to think of this as a zone system. The bar zone is neutral. Everyone wants to drink, so we try not to crowd it." He pointed to the left. "In the living room zone, we have the dancing, the grinding, and the topless make out sessions." He pointed to the right. "The den zone has the weird party games that may or may not involve partial nudity." He motioned to the hallway. "The back bedroom is by invitation only," he winked, "but the guest room is home to many a drunken hookup. We ask everyone to remember that no means no, but otherwise, people just want to have a good time." Blaine stopped to laugh at Kurt's wide eyed expression.

"Where do you hang out?" Kurt sounded a little scandalized, taking a longer drink.

"I usually can be found in the balcony zone," Blaine pointed past the bar, where sure enough, a group of people were outside despite the chilly November air. "It's a little more low key, we used to call it the Boyfriend Club, but there are a couple of girls who hang out with us, too. Sebastian is always inside somewhere, though. I think I saw him dancing earlier."

As if his name had summoned him, Sebastian turned up at his elbow, beaming. "Baby! I'm so glad you made it!" He wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulders and planted a kiss on his temple. He was a little rumpled in his white-on-white ensemble, but still looked great. He caught sight of Blaine, and gave him a smoldering look, reeling him in for a sloppy kiss that tasted of tequila, before releasing him and turning his attention back to Kurt. "You should come dance with me," he purred, hooking a finger through one of Kurt's belt loops.

Blaine was about to find himself in the uncomfortable position of being ditched, judging by the lust on Sebastian's face, and the stars in Kurt's eyes. Then Santana wrapped her arms around him from behind and sank her teeth into the side of his neck. He made an undignified sound and tried to turn towards her.

"Puck's finally here," she whispered against his ear, the heated look she was giving Sebastian making it seem like she was saying something far more suggestive. She slid her hands down his chest to grab one of his wrists, gave the other two men a teasing wave, and dragged him off.

"I find it weird that you do that to me," Blaine blushed, steering them towards the kitchen. He grabbed a few packages of Oreos down from the top of the refrigerator with practiced ease, trying to shake off her grip.

"That I grope you, or that you like it?" Santana teased, walking too close to him as they took the cookies and a gallon of milk to join their friends on the balcony.

"Both." Blaine tried to glare at her, and they both started giggling instead.

"Munchkin, it's not about boy or girl, it's hot or not," she pouted. "And you know I'm the hottest thing in this joint." They made it outside and settled into the chairs left empty for them. Their tall friend Puck was busily packing a bowl, but still gave them a nod. Sam, Wes, and Trent cheered their arrival as the bearers of munchies.

"Blaine gets the first hit," Santana announced, claiming authority as the only girl in the circle. "Sebastian is being a douche."

Puckerman snorted. "Man, what else is new?" His pronouncement was met by various sounds of agreement. Blaine started to protest. Really, if everyone hated Sebastian so much, why did have so many friends? Instead, a freshly-packed bong was shoved into his hands, and Puck presented him with a disposable lighter. "Hey. I'm not gonna rag on you and shit. If you're happy, we're cool. I wouldn't want to suck his dick," he shrugged, "but if that's who you love, it's who you love."

"But the second you're not happy, they'll never find his body," Santana grumbled beside him, sitting back in her chair.

Blaine pretended not to hear. He wanted to have fun tonight, and starting the same old argument with his friends wasn't fun. He sealed his lips over the end of the water pipe, flicking the lighter and watching in usual fascination as smoke filled the chamber. A minute later, he was sucking all that smoke into his lungs, feeling his chest expand and the familiar taste of green in his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed as he held it in. Just when he was about to exhale, Santana grabbed his face with both hands. It might have been surprising, but she did it all the time, planting her mouth over his to shotgun the first hit.

He pulled away, watching her breathe out a plume of pungent smoke. Shaking his head, he passed the bong to Sam on his left. "You're lucky I like you, girl."

"I know," she smirked.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: General disclaimer in first chapter. Chapter specific warnings include minor drug references, sexual situations, and foul language. Thanks to themuse19, my new nit-picky beta, and as always to nubianamy, my first reader and regular inspiration. I love reviews, and will respond to each one that has PM enabled. I'm sorry for the long wait for updates, and while I have a long list of Really Good Excuses, you don't want to hear them. On with the story!**

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><p>It was cold and quiet, and the last of the weed had long since been cashed. On the balcony, Santana was half asleep, leaning on Puck, who was quietly debating whether to get a cab home or crash out on a couch. Blaine shrugged at him and made his way unsteadily back inside. There were just a few people passed out in various places, but the majority had cleared out.<p>

It was pretty much his routine on these Fridays to do a final head count, lock the front door, and make a mental note of any major messes that he'd need to clean up in the morning. Satisfied with the state of the apartment, he turned to the back bedroom and walked right in.

Some part of him noticed the lingering smell of sex, and that Kurt and Sebastian were curled up together under the covers, but he was still stoned and really sleepy. Right now, he didn't care. Brushing his teeth took the last of his energy. He dropped his clothes on the floor, climbing in on his side of the bed. A brief hunt located the good pillow, then he promptly fell asleep.

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><p>"<em>There's a stranger in my bed, there's a pounding in my head...<em>" Blaine chuckled softly as he woke up to his ringing phone. Sometimes he thought Katy Perry had written that song just for him. He fumbled around, trying to find the source of the song, almost falling out of bed before he found his pants. By the time the phone was in his hand, his voice mail had picked up. He listened to the brief message from his boss at the Espresso Pump asking him if he could cover a shift that night, even though Saturday was his regular day off. He texted her back a quick affirmative. He could always use extra hours. Blaine looked up from his phone to meet Sebastian's drowsy, half-lidded gaze.

"Morning," Sebastian smirked, disentangling his arms from the still-sleeping Kurt and gesturing him closer. Obligingly, Blaine met his boyfriend in a gentle kiss that Sebastian broke abruptly, making a face. "Ugh. You taste like weed. Brush your teeth, then we'll try again."

Flushing brightly, Blaine slipped into the adjoining bathroom to clean up. His occasional marijuana use was something that Sebastian hated, but accepted because of how much he loved Blaine. The least he could do was remember to get the smell off before kissing him. He was just stepping out of the shower when there was a muffled squeak from behind him. Blaine half-turned to see Kurt frozen in the doorway. He followed Kurt's line of sight, making an equally less-than-manly sound, and hastily wrapped a towel around his waist.

"Um. So much for minimizing the awkwardness," he chuckled self-consciously, pushing his damp curls out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Kurt stammered.

"It's fine. It happened. We'll, uh, talk or something later. When I'm not naked," Blaine replied, wincing at just how stupid he was sounding. He gave up the whole situation as a lost cause, and inched his way past Kurt towards the bedroom. "I'm just... excuse me."

Door shut firmly between them now, Blaine finished drying off. A glance at the time prompted him to pull on a clean work shirt and pants, and leave Sebastian dozing on the bed. He took his messenger bag with him to the living room as he rummaged for his emergency back up hair gel, because there was no way he was going back into the bathroom with Kurt still there. If he left for work now, stopping for a bite to eat on the way, he'd be... really, really early for the shift he'd been asked to cover. On the other hand, if he waited, Sebastian would wake up and pout at him for agreeing to work, and he would wind up having to kick out all the left over couch-crashers and start cleaning up, which he really didn't want to do. He paused at the entryway mirror to check his appearance, and bolted out the door with his coat.

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><p>"Large non-fat mocha latte, no whip, extra shot!" Blaine called out the order, setting it on the edge of the pick up counter. He moved back to the Cold Drink Station for the next order, and saw that the rush had died down. There was one more beverage in the queue, and then he could take a well deserved break. His hands moved briskly through the familiar motions, stirring and shaking and adding ice. "Medium iced chai soy latte, no whip!"<p>

He finally poured himself a medium drip, dash of cinnamon, splash of skim, and untied his apron. "Hey, Becca? I'm taking my break. And I'm claiming the wonky croissant in the name of my starving belly."

The redhead at the cashier station turned at the sound of her name. "Are you sure you don't want a low fat yogurt crunch bar, Muffin Top?" she inquired in a too-sweet voice, poking at his waist line.

Blaine pretended to scowl at the joke, wadding up a towel to throw at her, as he thought of an appropriately scathing reply. He had just began to phrase his come back, when a somewhat familiar voice beat him to it.

"Excuse me, Ginger?" Kurt Hummel was on the other side of the counter, giving Becca an icy glare. "Before you go around critiquing others on their physical appearance, you might want to consider bathing yourself, you dirty hipster. Also, digging out your camel-toe would be a step in the right direction. Never wearing those pants again would be better." He waved one hand dismissively at her and gave a disdainful sniff.

Both baristas now gaped at him, before Blaine collected himself. "I- wow. I'm going to take my break. Let me take care of this?" he nearly pleaded with the girl, before popping around the counter to grab Kurt's arm. Before he could even get him to a table or ask him what the hell was going on, the floodgates opened.

"I asked 'Bastien where you'd gone to, and he told me that you got called in to work, and he told me you worked here, which is kind of funny because I intern over at Max Azria two blocks over and I was actually stopping to see if you wanted to get together sometime and sort through all of this craziness and apologize for this morning, but I got here, and you were busy so I waited and got a mocha, which is really good, by the way, and then I heard what that bitch said to you and that was just uncalled for! She has no right to say something like that to you!"

"Kurt! Breathe!" Blaine grabbed the younger man's shoulders, torn between annoyance and hilarity. "That was my boss."

Kurt blanched. "I just called your boss a dirty hipster?"

"And pointed out her camel-toe," Blaine agreed in an overly calm tone.

"Did I just get you in trouble?"

"I'm not sure yet," Blaine admitted. "Becca is pretty cool, and she was actually just teasing me. It's kind of a joke. We had a guy that used to come in all the time and make fun of me, especially my weight, until Becca finally heard him. She threw him out, and banned him for life." It was an abbreviated version of the story, but it would have to do.

Kurt closed his eyes. "So now she teases you and calls you Muffin Top?"

"It's meant in love." Both young men jumped at Becca's interruption. "Blaine, you should get your things and go."

"Oh my god." Kurt looked like he was about to hyperventilate. Blaine was just confused, and a little hurt. He swallowed hard. He really liked this job. Sure, no one plans on working in a coffee house for the rest of their lives, but it was good work.

"Please don't fire him on my account, ma'am," Kurt started earnestly. "This whole situation is my fault. Blaine had no idea I was going to be here. He had no idea I even knew where he worked! I apologize profusely for my incredibly inappropriate behavior, but surely you won't hold him responsible for my actions..." he trailed off helplessly, watching the corner of Becca's mouth begin to twitch.

Then she started laughing. "You should have seen your faces! Blaine, of course you're not fired. You have open availability." She grinned. "Now get your new boy a biscotti for being friggin' adorable, and get the heck out of here. I can handle closing up. You two clearly have some talking to do." She patted Blaine's shoulder companionably, and shoved him gently towards the employee area.

For a split second, Blaine almost protested the use of 'new boy' as a descriptor for Kurt, since it wasn't even close to being accurate. But the truth was entirely too weird, and while Becca was amongst the coolest bosses of all time, there was such a thing as an over-share.

He fetched his belongings and rejoined the two just in time to catch the end of Becca's statement.

"...honestly, I think it's cute that you jumped to defend him. Lord knows he could use a knight in shining Prada after that jerk he's been living with." She smiled and winked at a flabbergasted Kurt, then headed back to the counter.

"See you Monday." Blaine waved on his way out the door, clutching his newly retrieved medium drip as if it alone could save him from the strange humiliation that seemed to surround him in Kurt's presence. "Usually this would be where I suggest we go grab a coffee, but that would just make me sound stupider. More stupid," he corrected hastily, and then finished under his breath, "as if it were possible." Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, if you're still hungry, there's a great organic deli not too far from here," Kurt offered tentatively. "My treat, since I'm pretty much ruining your life?"

Blaine gave him an incredulous look. "Why does this matter so much to you? It'd probably make both of our lives easier if we just avoid each other."

"You're important to Sebastian, and Sebastian is important to me," came the quiet reply. "I'm fully aware that I have been some kind of a drama-seeking missile so far, but I'm hoping that you'll give me another chance. I want us to be friends."

It made sense. It made too much sense, and for a moment, Blaine almost felt sorry for this sweet kid who was going to get chewed up and spat out by Sebastian's lifestyle, unless he was a whole lot more resilient than he seemed at first glance.

"What the hell. Let's go." If there was one thing Blaine was good at, it was going with the flow.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: General disclaimer in first chapter. Chapter specific warnings include foul language. I also do not own any of the companies, institutions, brand names, etc. mentioned in this chapter. Thanks as always to nubianamy and themuse19, and a special thanks to Jeannie for helping me out with all the things I couldn't remember about Worthington. (Yes. I'm from Ohio.) And now someone who knows me IRL is reading my fic, and it fills me with some kind of terror. Oh well.**

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><p><strong>"<strong>Are you a vegetarian?"

Blaine was momentarily startled by Kurt's abrupt question, and wondered how on earth the other man would come to that conclusion. Then he looked down at his sandwich. Grilled portabella mushrooms with roasted red pepper coulis, on toasted ciabatta with a side of spicy black bean soup. Right. "No, I'm not. I'm pretty omnivorous though, and just because it doesn't have meat, doesn't mean it's not delicious."

Kurt smiled slightly, looking up at him through criminally long eyelashes. "I get it. I mean, if you're going to eat turkey and Swiss on white, why not stay at home? Unless you're me, of course. My roomie is a vegan, so I have to sneak my meat and dairy when I'm out."

**"**Ouch." Blaine took another bite of his sandwich, buying himself a few moments to think of something to say. Something not related to food. He swallowed. Might as well start with the glaringly obvious. "How did you meet Sebastian?"

**"**My aforementioned roommate's boyfriend is a good friend of his. He introduced us backstage at the Gershwin when 'Bastian came to see him in one of his shows."

**"**Oh? Do you act? I thought you said you were a fashion intern..."

**"**The stipend I get for my internship at BCBG is barely enough to cover my monthly shoe purchases," he laughed. "My actual job is as an assistant-assistant costume master. The hours are hell and the actors are snobs, but I'm part of the Broadway machine, and it's incredible."

**"**I bet," Blaine grinned at him. "Which friend? Sebastian knows a lot of people in the theater, but maybe I know him."

**"**Jesse St. James." Kurt paused to take a sip of his water.

Blaine made a face. "Man, I hate that guy."

Kurt looked startled, then hid a grin. "He does take a certain amount of getting used to," he offered diplomatically.

Blaine waved his hand dismissively. St. James and his epic douchebaggery were not something he wanted to dwell on at the moment. "Jesse and I have a long history of mutual antipathy. It has nothing to do with anyone else." He paused for a moment, considering. "So you live with that Rachel girl? I've met her a time or two. She seems nice."

**"**She has her moments," Kurt laughed. "I've known her literally forever, so I'm used to her particular brand of crazy."

**"**_Literally_forever? Wow. I had no idea I was in the presence of an immortal. Does decapitation work on your kind, or did I just take a sharp left turn into way-too-geeky for you?" Blaine leaned forward eagerly.

Kurt bit his lip, amused. "If that was a _Highlander _reference, you should just be grateful I used to watch a lot of _I Love the 80's_, or I'd have no idea what you were talking about."

**"**Why does no one appreciate classic sci-fi and fantasy any more?" He threw up his hands in mock despair, then gave a dramatic sigh. Blaine was rewarded with a giggle at his theatrics.

There was a brief lull in the conversation as they both turned their attention back to their food.

**"**I really am sorry for earlier," Kurt broke in seriously. "I feel just awful for putting you through all of these awkward moments. I swear it's not on purpose. I'm usually much more socially adept."

It took Blaine a moment to figure out what Kurt was talking about. The coffee shop thing. Right. Had that only been an hour ago? It seemed like a lot longer. He gave a rueful chuckle. "Honestly? As far as horrifyingly uncomfortable situations go? You have barely broken into my top ten. Definitely not into my top five," he smiled, then looked away.

**"**That's very kind of you to say, but I'm not sure I believe you." Kurt couldn't quite disguise the hopeful expression on his features which contradicted his words.

**"**Okay. Here's a top five moment; which, by the way, you must take to your grave. When I was fifteen, my older brother moved out to go to college. Since he had the bigger bedroom, my family decided that I would get his old room, and mine would get turned into a crafting-slash-sewing thing for my mom. She was so excited that she decided to be unexpectedly helpful, and began packing up my things while I was at school." The tips of Blaine's ears were slowly turning pink, his eyes trained on the table.

**"**Uh oh." Kurt was already cringing, bracing himself for what was about to happen.

**"**When I got home that night," Blaine continued, "she sat me down and informed me that we needed to talk. My mom apparently found my, um... battery operated personal appliance, and my stash of muscle magazines." He grimaced, glancing up to see Kurt's wide-eyed expression. "There may have been a twenty minute lecture about how I was ruining my body for my future spouse, and that I should be glad she threw everything out before my father got home."

**"**Oh my sweet baby mother of gaga. Please tell me that wasn't how you came out to her," Kurt was clutching his chest, the picture of abject horror.

Blaine couldn't help but laugh at the other man's creative expletives, then slowly lost his humor. "No, it wasn't. That is a much longer story that currently ranks number one. Are you sure you want to hear it?" He cocked a brow. Blaine wasn't completely sure why he was willing to share all of these personal details with a near stranger, but there was just something about Kurt that made him believe he could be trusted.

**"**You don't have to," Kurt offered sympathetically, looking away briefly before locking eyes with him. "But I'll tell you mine in exchange."

**"**Your number one horror, or your coming out story?" Blaine stalled.

**"**Both. Either. Your choice."

**"**Sounds fair." Blaine stirred his iced tea with the straw, then took a sip. "I was pretty sheltered, growing up in Ohio. My family's solidly middle class, but my parents are both teachers. When my dad got a job teaching at a private school in Westerville, Cooper – that's my brother – and I got free tuition. Tree of Life is a non-denominational Christian academy. It's co-ed, and goes from kindergarten through high school. I started there in sixth grade. I was twelve. I barely understood that 'gay' was an option. I mean, I'd seen _Will & Grace_, so I knew that gay people existed, I just didn't understand what it meant. I wasn't attracted to girls, so I figured I was just a late bloomer or something. Anyway, my best friend was this kid named Shaun. We liked all of the same things, we were in show choir, soccer, and orchestra. We had every class together and hung out all the time outside of school."

Kurt made a soft sound of encouragement, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand.

**"**One weekend, I was sleeping over at his house. We were watching movies, and he kept flirting with me. That's hindsight talking, by the way. At the time, I didn't realize what all the looks and touches meant. I just knew I was getting flustered." Blaine looked down at his plate, mildly surprised to see that in the course of his monologue he had methodically disassembled the remaining half of his sandwich and grouped all of the ingredients by size.

**"**What happened?" Kurt prompted softly, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards.

**"**He kissed me," Blaine admitted, an answering smile creeping across his face. "It was like I'd been standing in the dark all my life and someone flipped on the lights. Oh! That's what gay means!" He laughed, and popped a mushroom in his mouth.

**"**That's … kind of adorable." The younger man's grin widened as he met Blaine's gaze.

**"**It was," he agreed, before sobering suddenly and looking away. "I'm not going to call it ironic, but it was definitely strange that the next week our Bible class mentioned homosexuality for the first time. The teacher didn't spend the whole lesson spewing hatred or anything. It was nothing too major. Just the same throw-away lines that are always being quoted. 'Thou shalt not lie with a man, blah blah, abomination, whatever. I'm sure you've heard it."

**"**I have," Kurt agreed neutrally, his features impassive.

**"**Essentially, it drove home to me and Shaun that whatever we had done, it needed to be kept secret. Extremely secret. No one could ever know. There was a side of guilt, too, that we'd done something so wrong. But then again, I wondered. Why was it wrong? I wasn't hurting anyone." Blaine broke off suddenly, seizing his tea and taking a long drink. Ice cubes rattled in the glass by the time he was finished, and he managed to regain his composure. A deep breath, and he was ready to finish.

**"**I'm rambling. Over the next year or so, Shaun kissed me a few more times. I kissed him back. We never talked about it. By eighth grade, it was just another thing that we did when we were together. You remember puberty, right? I'm not going to go into detail, but one sleepover may have progressed to extremely minor fooling around. That's pretty much where everything went to hell." Blaine's smile twisted into something bitter.

**"**How so?" Kurt looked concerned, leaning forward in his seat. His hand started forward, then pulled back again.

**"**Shaun had a crisis of faith. He freaked out about what we did together, and decided it was all my fault. Never mind that he was always the initiator." The statement was accompanied by a frustrated eye roll.

**"**Did he tell your parents?"

**"**Worse. He told our school principal." Blaine's jaw clenched. All these years later, and that kid still pissed him off.

**"**I don't understand," Kurt shook his head.

**"**At Tree of Life, we all signed a student code of conduct. In that code, it describes homosexuality as an abomination against God. Code violations of a sexual nature rate an automatic expulsion," he replied flatly.

Kurt's mouth fell open. "What?" he managed to get out, shocked.

**"**Oh yes. Two high school girls got expelled for getting pregnant that same year. No exceptions. So I got thrown out of school, outed to everyone, my parents were told, and in my permanent file, it stated that my expulsion was based on 'sexual deviance' and 'perverse misconduct'." Blaine took a deep breath. It was all water under the bridge at this point, and getting mad wasn't going to change the past.

**"**Did... did Shaun get expelled, too?" He looked almost afraid to hear the answer.

**"**No. His version of the events basically painted me as the guy who came on to him. He graduated from Tree, and last I heard, he's an associate minister at some big church in Columbus. At least, that's what Facebook told me when it recommended we should be friends." Blaine started to take another sip of his drink before he realized his glass was empty. He stared at the slowly melting ice, and shook his head. "Another thing that's against Tree's honor code is violence, but it didn't stop a bunch of high schoolers from catching me in the parking lot on my last day, and kicking the crap out of me. The principal's son led the charge, so if you guessed that they weren't disciplined for it, you're right."

**"**How did your parents take everything?" Kurt reached forward again, this time letting his hand rest on the back of Blaine's wrist.

**"**They didn't really understand it, but they weren't awful about my being gay. We sort of just agreed to never discuss it. My dad quit, wound up going back to school for his doctorate, so that part turned out okay. And we moved to the other side of Columbus, so I graduated from Thomas Worthington. It was public school, but it had really great theater, arts, and music program. I made some good friends there." Blaine shrugged, and made an attempt to redirect the conversation. "So there's my teapot tragedy. What's your story?"

Kurt sat back, blinking. "Okay... wow. Suddenly I feel like I've been doing a lot of crying over paper cuts."

Blaine looked at him in consternation, then shook himself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- it's not a competition. I probably shouldn't have blurted all of that out. I'm a chronic over-sharing type person. Very open about everything. You're probably thrown for a loop after all of that. I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

**"**Let's make a deal. We stop apologizing for every little thing, agreed? I asked you to tell me. I'm not... trivializing either of our experiences." Kurt had to pause, searching for the right word before he finished his statement.

**"**Sounds like something we can try for, but I'll warn you. I'm fairly apologetic, and I think you are as well." Blaine managed to summon up a lopsided grin. Kurt laughed.

**"**So. My coming out story is a little silly. Afterwards, my dad told me that he knew I was gay since I was three years old, but when I was a sophomore, the idea of coming out was terrifying. My dad is a mechanic, and he raised me by himself after my mother died," Kurt began.

**"**I'm so sorry," Blaine interrupted earnestly.

**"**What did we just agree to?" Kurt shook his head.

**"**I'm sorry? Crap!" Both of them laughed, while Blaine smacked his hand against his forehead. "Okay. Continue. I will try to stop cutting in."

**"**Anyway! My dad is pretty butch. I am clearly not. One afternoon, he caught me dancing around in a bedazzled leotard with some of my girlfriends to Beyonce's _Single Ladies_. Brittany tried to save me by telling him it was something for football practice, which led to me joining the team as a kicker- trust me, you don't want to know. At the end of all the brouhaha, I told my dad that being in glee club and being a football player and being dedicated to an intensive moisturizing routine are all part and parcel to who I am. And so is being gay."

**"**How did he react?" Blaine couldn't help but interject, remembering his own father's antipathy.

For the first time all night, Kurt smiled wide enough that his teeth showed. "He told me that he loved me just the same. It took him a little time to get used to my being open about it, but not too much later on, he told me that my job was to be myself, and his job was to love me."

Blaine looked impressed. "Your dad sounds pretty awesome."

**"**He is."


End file.
